sitting on an old man’s bicycle was Marguerite, dressed in a pretty summer dress, which was odd to see. Her hair was done up too, though some of it had been pulled from its twist and lay unkempt near her neck.
I felt myself smiling. I had gotten the numbers she asked for. I really did it, I thought, just like she said I would. I was excited to tell her I’d succeeded.
I skidded to a stop, because instead of looking pleased to see me, she scowled. ‘Do you have to kick up that much dust when you ride? What are the numbers? You have them, don’t you? Your message meant nothing, memorize the damn codes…’ She talked fast, and sounded more like the old Marguerite, the one I met on the train with her curt, cutting voice. ‘Adèle—the numbers.’
The smile on my face slowly faded away.
I got off my bicycle when she got off hers. ‘What are they?’ She took me by the shoulders and the rest of her hair unravelled down her back. ‘I don’t have a lot of time.’
At the minimum I thought she’d be glad I read her coded message right. I shook the stunned look from my face to answer her. ‘Ah… nineteen. Twenty-five. Thirty-two.’
She repeated the numbers. ‘Can you get back in if I need you to?’
‘Into Gérard’s office?’ I was sure Gérard would love nothing more. I nodded.
‘Keep visiting him. I’ll be in touch.’ She turned to leave, but I wasn’t ready for her to leave. Not yet. I yanked her back by the shoulder.
‘Wait.’ My mouth hung open. I thought she’d be happy with my progress—appreciative—impressed, but she wasn’t. Clearly, she wasn’t. ‘No thank you?’ It was the least I expected after what I went through in Gérard’s office, and I needed to hear it; for whatever reason, I needed an acknowledgement, and for her to tell me I’d done well.
She glared at me, first at my touch and then for my voice. ‘We don’t hand out medals, Adèle.’
‘I’m not asking for a medal, Marguerite. Just a damn thank you.’ I felt a pinch in my lips even though I was more hurt than angry. ‘Do you even know what I had to do to get those numbers? He forced himself on me and I let him—hot breath all over my skin, my lips pasty from his wet tongue—Christ, Marguerite! I don’t even want to talk about his heavy hands feeling every curve of my body—but I will if you want me to…’
Marguerite’s gaze had wandered just over my shoulder, her blank face stretching with fright, which caught me off guard. I whipped my head around and saw a blooming cloud of dust billowing in the air from an approaching car.
I gasped, hand to my mouth, and Marguerite dove to the ground, taking me and both our bicycles with her. ‘Over here!’ We dragged them off the road and into the weeds before ducking into the catchfly and burrowing into the ground.
Underneath the flower’s velveteen petals grew a poisonous, prickly stem; its bite a brief, yet penetrating sting to those who dared to disturb it. The venom was meant to catch field bugs, but instead it grazed our faces, leaving strings of poison on our skin as we crawled shoulder to shoulder, the car coming to a sudden, lurching stop. We curled up in the stems, insects buzzing in our ears and sticking to our cheeks. My entire body itched.
I heard German mixed with French and the grave sound of feet walking the edge of the embankment. Marguerite winced when they found our bicycles; then her eyes locked with mine through the catchfly, the whirring cry of locusts warning of someone coming. ‘Thank you, Adèle,’ she whispered. ‘For the numbers…’ Heavy footsteps came toward us, the crunch of the catchfly under their boots too close to think about, and her eyes got wide, wider than I had ever seen before. My heart hummed.
‘I’ll never let her go this time,’ a gruff voice said.
‘Then why’d you let her escape?’ another said back. ‘She’s not here. Those bicycles could be anyone’s.’ There was a grumble and a growl followed by an argument about not tying knots tight enough. Then a man with the loudest German voice I had ever heard spoke over both of them.
‘Thousand Year Reich!’ Gunfire popped haphazardly all around with tufts of dirt lifting from the ground, and I squeezed my eyes shut.
Please… God. Please let me live…
A long, hot pause followed